Let me Fly or Fall on my Own
by very dead acc dont even try
Summary: Sometimes it's hard to tell when you're dreaming, but you've found that it can be harder to tell when you are awake. (Or, where you find out what happens to those who try flying before they even finish fledging. The answer is pretty obvious, isn't it? They fall.) WARNING! Mentions and Descriptions of Abuse (sexual and physical) as well as a few triggers (suicide)


Author's Notes (See at end of Chapter)

Undertale by Toby Fox

Drabble and Art by Doxa & Etc

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 _"Falling is just flying down."_

You drag your slender branch behind you, the smooth bark molding with a warm familiarity to your hand.

Other children have teddy bears and blankets, but the forest has always offered more protection than any scrap of cloth could, so you tug along your stick as a shard of comfort; a piece of that safety.

It's small, thin- a youthful green- and, despite its rough surface, soft.

It's weak.

It reminds you of yourself.

The musty leaf litter flutters weakly under the chilled breeze, and even the warm sunlight filtering over your back can't help your shivers.

You trip more than a few times as you stroll through the damp earth, the jutting edges of mountain rock catching your feet.

You don't mind of course; you know by now it's not the stone's fault- your legs simply ache too much to walk straight.

Maybe you even sympathize with the rocky incline, the smooth, black stone of the dying volcano.

It must be hurting to have a color so deeply blue and black; you would know, after all, since your body carries the same hues.

There's no breeze, but you shiver again.

~:•:~

You're aching all over.

Everywhere- every leaden limb and harsh wheeze, every screaming muscle and burning skin- protests.

You scrunch your eyes and grind your teeth, trying to block it out.

Something slick trickles wetly over your legs, and a jolt of fear runs through you. Was it your thighs? Did you upset him?

No. No, wait it's not. It's just your right calf, bent odd and crying red like the tears streaking the dust on your child-round cheeks.

There's an overbearing scent of copper smothering the air, but no hot fumes that sting your nose and throat, like rotten spirits.

Oh, God, it still burns.

If it wasn't him, then maybe her. You made her mad again, didn't you?

But what did you do?

You don't remember doing anything- hell, you don't remember being chastised.

There was always yelling before the pain; high, insistent shrieks demanding justice for your crimes, your wrongdoings.

Someone has to make sure you knew your trespasses before choosing the verdict- even if the choice was always the same.

But the thrashings never hurt this bad.

This might just be the worst hurt yet.

You must have done something very, very wrong this time. Why couldn't you just be a good child for once? You're such a burden.

Maybe everyone would be happier if you didn't exist.

Cradled by the damp earth, you let darkness take you.

The fragile dash of sky, humming its lullaby of light, lulls you for what feels like days.

Or maybe it was only seconds.

It doesn't matter; you won't remember the soft white of strong arms, rocking you like she never did, or the warmth of another fire- a kinder heat- as your leg straightened and the copper faded like a forgotten nightmare.

Flowers, delicate and light like you and some just as big, cling to your limp back as you are lifted.

The petals are gold; gold and red like the sky.

Like sunrise.

~:•:~

It's warm.

Almost too warm, but not quite enough to be uncomfortable. It's dry too, and you're glad for that, even if it feels unnatural.

You find the lack of creaking wood and groaning stone, of damp air and mildew drafts, strange.

You thought it would be a good thing, no longer fearing of waking up under a collapsed roof, but it feels wrong.

The soft blankets, comfy bed, and of course, your mom.

True mom, anyway.

Your blood-parents were far close to death in your heart for them to be called that anymore.

This mom, your mom, is different though. Very different; she feeds you good pies and reads funny stories, and in the many days here, taught you so much about this underground realm.

Like a real mom would.

At least, you think so. You've never really had anyone for comparison.

This place is so, so different. Even you start to feel odd.

You've taken to calling everything that was of the time before you fell the "Dream", and you're not sure why. It just feels right.

Mom doesn't quite understand either, but that's okay. You love her anyway.

You love her enough to stand against the searing heat, the fiery blaze lighting the small cavern.

Something cold and fresh beckons in wisps behind her looming, expressionless form.

Every now and then you think you catch laughter, a pretty, rallying fistful of notes that you've come to love with every weary stance.

It seems to sound louder whenever you dodge an unlucky angle, and the world bursts into a thousand red shards.

But none louder than Mom's horrified scream.

And despite your rising frustration, you continue to dance, wrapped in silken ribbons of kindness.

You successfully bury the growls in your throat with every step. Step. Step.

Take another step, it's not too far now.

"Fight me or leave!"

You refuse.

"Stop it!"

Is that laughter or your heavy breathing?

"Stop looking at me that way..!"

You can smell the clarity of new snow.

"..."

Are you still dodging?

"... …"

No. She's no longer aiming.

"Please… Go upstairs now."

The cascade of fire falls like a warm blanket. You find you're not really afraid. Were you ever?

"Pathetic, is it not?"

You find that you agree.

In the next heartbeat, the warmth dissipates like a fading dream, and you shiver as you step past the yawning exit… No, entrance.

The loud grinding of the locks echoes your feet as you step step step into the heavy dark, your pale blue ribbons trailing listlessly behind.

~:•:~

Someone's laughing, and it's not you.

You find that you're terribly cold.

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AN: Initial uploads to Amino (Writers). I'm shooting for something rather dark and hinting at some morbid stuff. If you can't handle that then pull up your panties and check out some other writers (prolly much better anyway).

The story will be delivered in two installments- this is the first one. I've no idea when the next one is out~

It will also be delivered in an almost poetic (who am I kidding it might as well be listed as a poem for all its symbolism) format. Sorry not sorry?

Please review if you found yourself enjoying, caught a pesky moth, or feel like dropping some pointers!


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